


a kettle, a curse

by diluc



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Based on FEH Fallen Ike, Death, Demonic Possession, Ike goes feral, Lehran's Medallion, M/M, Minor Violence, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diluc/pseuds/diluc
Summary: Was Ike sick? Or perhaps injured? Rushing towards the door, the mage spotted Ike right there: he had dropped the wooden logs outside the porch, and was now seemingly foaming at the mouth. Soren tiptoed, cupping Ike’s cheeks in his hands; his pulse seemed unnaturally hard, and the eyes staring at him… they were not Ike’s.“S...stay back,” he growled through his teeth, “h...hrgh… Soren. Soren!”Or: whatever once happened to Elena now happens to Soren. History reverberates like a twisted echo.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	a kettle, a curse

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one sitting please im sorry rsedtrgyujiopkl[p also this is . not beta-read AND i hope its not too ooc, ive been struggling w bad writers block and apathy! so i hope you like this??? sredtfyguijokp[l]  
> thank u ferdibrt discord for feeding my brainworms

"Ike?”

Soren looked as youthful as ever, curse his bloodline, but he could even feel the heaviness and exhaustion in his eyes, the weariness in his bones. Having set up some tea on the table, still hot in its kettle, and meat from the marketplace, he examines the spells he had recently crafted; humming, he once again revelled in the hearth Ike made with him. It felt like home, for the first time in his life; no need for his cold exterior - although it stuck to him like a tag - and no need to feel unwelcome. It was a bizarre feeling at first; and yet now, he realizes it’s something he had desired all along. A place to belong, together, with Ike; as partners, as equals, as anything - and having built a little house and a little family with him, Soren found himself stupidly happy. It’s raining at the moment, the water drops splashing softly against the roof as some sparrows nested there hide; Priam had gone out to school, and Ike had left to chop some wood for the fireplace. With the food ready and not much to do, Soren went back to studying some ancient tomes he had discovered in the marketplace.  
He didn’t notice the door creak, and instinctively called out. “Welcome back, Ike.”

Upon hearing a grunt rather than an “I’m home,” he narrowed his eyes. Was Ike sick? Or perhaps injured? Rushing towards the door, the mage spotted Ike right there: he had dropped the wooden logs outside the porch, and was now seemingly foaming at the mouth. Soren tiptoed, cupping Ike’s cheeks in his hands. His pulse seemed unnaturally hard, and the eyes staring at him… they were not Ike’s.  
“S...stay back,” he growled through his teeth, “h...hrgh… Soren. Soren!”

Engulfed in a cloud of smoke and misty-eyed, Ike’s expression was hauntingly blank; he sweated profusely, mouth agape and eyes reddened. Soren’s eyes widened at the sight; touching his partner’s skin lightly, he felt the heat rumbling from inside his blood. _No,_ he thought internally, _this can’t be happening. This isn’t anything normal. This is…_  
“A curse,” the words fell off of his lips as though by itself, “Ike… is this a curse of sorts? Black magic?”  
“Hgh…” Ike’s hand gripped his sword’s hilt as he gasped for air desperately; he looked at Soren, and the mage could see his usual nature was being taken over by something. A curse so powerful it has been sealed by a supernatural deity… huh. How familiar, he thought. “R...rghhh…”

“The medallion,” Soren stared up at the misshapen silhouette of his husband, “is it the medallion?”  
Ike convulsed once more, but made a shaking motion reminiscent of a nod; Soren felt his chest constrict and hurt - he needed to get help as fast as he could. There was no way out; why had Ike even had it, in the first place? Could Mist have mistakenly slipped it into his bag or something?   
Soren couldn’t tear it away without more chaos ensuing, could he now?

“Ike,” he soothed, “Ike. Please, come to your senses. It’s just me, there is no harm. It is very safe, Ike.”  
“P-protect…” he uttered in reply, much to Soren’s shock. Then again, wasn’t the medallion supposed to enhance someone’s worst traits? Or could anyone consider protection a bane? “Soren… stay back… Soren…”

His hand, once more, slipped towards his sword; this time, he drew it, and with no hesitation. “Soren…”  
“Ike, please,” the mage momentarily thought of slapping Ike out of this, but realized the implausibility of such an action - thus, he simply stroked his once sun-kissed, now inhumanely pallid face in a soothing motion, hoping that would bring some sort of relief. “Please, drop the medallion. You know I can’t take it.”

The man dropped to his knees all of a sudden, roaring in hurt and crying out in pain; he kept foaming at the mouth, animalistic noises coming out from the back of his throat. He drew his sword maniacally, and pointed the very blade at Soren.

“Please calm down,” the Branded man exhaled; this was a dire situation, no matter what. For once in his life, he was unsure as to what to say. He might have to pull off something extremely dangerous to solve this - and he knows he will. It is but a matter of time, and he had sworn to die by Ike’s sike. It seems today is the day. “Breathe in, breathe out. It’s just me, Soren.”  
“S-Soren… protect,” the blue-haired man gulped, eyes crazened. The sword, however, drew ever so near; Soren instinctively backed out, and right until he was cornered in their living room. Ike’s eyes, a crimson deeper than his, stared holes through his face - and Soren wasn’t afraid in the slightest. What matters, he thought, is Ike and Priam’s safety. It is better than ending up on his own, centuries from now.

“Ike,” he feels his chest tighten; Priam will be home anytime soon. “Ike, I love you.”  
“S-Soren,” the sword is pointed at his neck now; the mage wasted no time in observing Ike, particularly his left hand - and that’s when he saw the medallion. “Soren… safety…”  
He smiled, mouth feeble and sorrowful, “Yes, Ike. You’re in safety.”

The front door banged open right that moment. “I’m ho- _the hell?_ Pa? Soren?”  
Ike slowly turned around to gaze at his son, and judging by the horror on Priam’s face, nothing has changed.  
“Priam,” Soren hissed at him, “take your things, and go outside.”  
“Pri...am…” Ike echoed, glossy eyes back at his partner. “Soren… Protect…”

The kid, with a seemingly heavy heart, rushes upstairs. Ike turned around to face his husband again: the sword has entered the skin on Soren’s neck, the latter hissing due to the pain. “Calm down, Ike.”  
“Calm...down,” instead, Ike had driven the blade deeper. Soren’s mouth parted agape, eyes widening; with the last of his power, he reached out towards Ike’s hand. He snatched the medallion, dropping it onto the ground, as his partner’s grip on the hilt hardened. “Calm… down…? Soren…?”  
“Ike,” he gasped; the look in the man’s eyes confirmed Soren’s hypothesis - his gaze reverted back to the kind, ice-blue eyes he knews. As the world flashed around him, the last thing he saw was the very man he lived and died for.

The steel sword hit the ground, and the following hollers were overshadowed by the sound of the iron kettle falling.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twt @ mugemugemoo  
> i. dont know what else to say


End file.
